Foolish Musings
by QuasarSerpent
Summary: A reluctant Lemy gets ready for church on Easter April Fools' when Lyra enters his room to check up on him. Her appearance causes him to muse about the feelings, and its inappropriate nature, he harbors toward her.


**Author's Note:** So, I thought I'd give a try at a one-shot about two of the Sin Kids (affectionately known as the "Abominations"). If this, along with the religious theme and plot, disturbs or otherwise offends you, click the back button. That said, hope you enjoy. Reviews and criticism are welcomed and appreciated. :)

 **Disclaimer:** _The Loud House_ belongs to Nickelodeon and, by extension, Viacom.

* * *

 **Foolish Musings**

 _By QuasarSerpent_

* * *

Lemy Loud sighed for the umpteenth time as he tugged his suit jacket on and buttoned it. It looked slightly wrinkled, and the lint stood out against the black fabric, and he ran his hands over it a few times before shrugging.

The cramped linen closet masquerading as his room didn't have a full-length mirror, so he had to settle for giving himself an once-over. His slacks also had some wrinkles, as well as lint, and Lemy halfheartedly smoothed them over for a few seconds before giving up. Guess that's what he got for stuffing his suit, passed down to him by his Dad, in the bottom drawer instead of hanging it the "proper way", as Aunt Leni would say.

Not that he cared about it.

From what he could see, he looked half-decent. His long hair, styled in a mullet reminiscent of the eighties, was uncontrollable as ever, and his bandanna tied around his forehead. If his parents, aunts, and sisters objected to his appearance, then too bad. That's what they deserved for forcing him to suit up for church.

Church. He barely held in a groan at the word. He had no problem with God, Jesus, Christianity, and the entire concept of religion, all that stuff in and of itself. He just had a problem with putting on a suit that made him feel like, well, a monkey, and spending an hour or so repeatedly standing and sitting while mindlessly reciting some Bible verses that had no relevance to his life whatsoever.

Oh, and waking up early too. Given that he liked to sleep in on weekends, it was disconcerting, if not grating, to have his Dad shake him awake with a cheerful "Son, wake up! We're going to church!" Wasn't it already bad enough to have to get up at six in the morning for school? And now he had to do the same, at seven, on the last day of freedom before he was once again banished to the torture center known as high school?

He stilled as realization hit him like a boxing glove in a box. A boxing glove in a box rigged with exploding pies. Exploding rhubarb pies, which he was allergic to.

Today was April Fool's Day. And on a Easter Sunday of all days.

Lemy let out a sigh as he plopped back on his bed, his outstretched arms hanging over the sides. Wonderful, just wonderful. For as long as he'd lived, and from the horror stories his family shared, his Aunt Luan absolutely delighted in pulling pranks on the entire family, pranks that sometimes bordered on homicidal. No one was spared; even if they got out of the house, the pranks would always follow them like the entity from the film, _It Follows_ , and inevitably catch up with them in the end.

He shuddered at the memory of last year's shenanigans. He would never look at garden hoses, crows, and pudding the same way again.

He blinked as another realization hit him. When he'd stumbled out of his room into the hallway, waited in line, and did his usual business in the bathroom (why didn't his parents put in another one, or even his grandparents for that matter? From what he'd learned in the past, they were quite proficient in crafting stuff), nothing had happened.

Huh, that was interesting. Maybe it meant his Auntie was finally letting up after all these years—

He snorted to himself. Yeah, right. It probably meant she was saving the best for last, and he was absolutely not looking forward to it. He blinked back to reality when the door opened and his older sister Lyra entered.

"Hey bro, you ready—" Lyra trailed off, her eyes widening ever so slightly, as she took in her brother. Her lips curled up. "Oh my, you clean up nice."

Lemy gave a grunt, trying to ignore the way his heart began speeding up. Lyra was a sight for sore eyes, to put it very lightly. She was wearing a purple dress that stopped right above her knees, topped with a black jacket. Lemy didn't miss the way it hugged her curvaceous figure, accentuating her bosom, and he swallowed at the hint of cleavage the dress revealed.

He tried not to groan as his sister approached him and put her hands on his suit, making minor adjustments and plucking any lint off. Her scent assaulted his nose, and he instinctively inhaled it. She'd put on lilac perfume, which complemented her natural scent perfectly. Her brown eyes, scrutinizing his attire, momentarily took his breath away, and her slightly wavy hair cascading down her face made him feel like reaching out and running his hands through them. The freckles lightly sprinkling her cheeks made his engines running faster, so to put it.

And more importantly, her lips looked so soft, _inviting_. His eyes were fixated on them; all he had to do was lean in closer and—

Getting a hold of himself lest he do something that stupid, Lemy put a pretense of swatting her hands away, much to his regret, and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and subtly adjusting his trousers along the way. He instantly regretted it, however, as he was now on face level of her chest. Her breasts, its cleavage having somehow deepened, beckoned to him invitingly.

He swallowed and looked to the side, finding his alarm clock awfully interesting; he surreptitiously began to repeatedly clench his thigh muscles, having learned that it could make any inconvenient "swelling" go away. It didn't work.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready. N-no need to smother me, sis." He winced inwardly at the way his voice cracked slightly. Not seeing Lyra's brow furrow and her head tilt slightly to the side, Lemy gave a start when she sat right next to him, the bed dipping slightly, their legs and thighs touching.

"You ok, bro?"

His heart pounding in his ears, his stomach churning, and his thigh burning at the point of contact, Lemy nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh, didn't get enough sleep..." Liar, liar, pants on fire. This surely explained the burning "sensation", both outside AND inside his pants.

"It's the church thing, isn't it?" Lyra's smile was knowing.

The "fire" had now spread over to his shoulders and upper back, as Lyra had put her arm around him and pulled him closer. The renewed assault her scent made on his beleaguered senses, as well the physical contact, reduced Lemy to a muttered "Maybe..." The fact he could feel the side of her breast press into his side, and that if he looked down and to the side, he would see them — wait, were these freckles toward the top of her breasts? _Unh_ — didn't help matters any further.

Lyra's giggle was music to his ears. "Well, bro, I'm not a fan of it too, but it's Easter, and it just happens to be on a Sunday. That, like, comes once a year. And you know how Dad can be about Easter."

Despite the sensations raging inside him, Lemy grinned at that. To say that Dad - and the others - was enthusiastic about hunting for Easter eggs containing rabbit-shaped chocolate was an understatement. Man, his old man was crazy about rabbits for some reason.

Just like Lemy was crazy about—

He mentally shook his mind to stop his mind from going that way. "Just like Aunt Luan about April Fool's." He paused for a few seconds. "Which just happens to be today." His smile faded; it was like the cosmos were aligning against him or something. Waking up early on a weekend for a religious event the family attended once in a blue moon, and on a day long dreaded in the Loud family.

"Don't worry about it, bro." Lyra was now rubbing circles on his back, which did _absolutely_ nothing to alleviate the throbbing sensation down there. He was definitely gonna get priapism at this rate, which would be quite a fitting punishment. "I'm sure Auntie wouldn't go too far. That'd be, like, sinning on God's day of all days, and that'd be wack, man."

Despite Lyra's joking tone, Lemy's heart now felt heavy. Yeah...that'd be wack. And you know what's even more wack, man? Committing the sin of lusting after your sister (well, more than the others, anyways) not just on this 'blessed' day but every day. Every single day, all three hundred and sixty-five days.

Lemy sighed. And he was to walk into a church knowing well that he ogled Lyra whenever she wasn't looking, emptied his load into his sock (or a Kleenex tissue, whatever was on hand, or near) thinking about her, and generally fantasized about kissing her, holding her, touching her, making lo—

Yeah, how could he walk into the exalted house of the Lord with so much wickedness inside his heart? And especially when his sister was blissfully unaware of such carnal desires he possessed toward her? He should be divinely struck down the moment he passed through the church doors like unsuspecting guards passing through a rewired Wall of Light in _Dishonored_.

Lemy's self-recrimination was cut short by his Dad calling out for them and the others from downstairs.

"Time to go," Lyra said with a smile as she ran a hand down his lavender tie (a vision of her pulling him by the tie toward her momentarily flashed in his mind) before getting off the bed. "C'mon, bro." She surprised him by taking his hand. As Lemy stood up from his bed, he was heartened that his discomfiture had subsided, and as he was led out of his room, he couldn't help but think about how soft and warm her hand was.

Later on, as he sat in church, having somehow passed through its sacred doors unscathed — although he swore his finger burned a little when they touched the holy water at the entrance — and trying his best not to be distracted by the sensation of his sister's thigh touching his, he would note just how ridiculous his thoughts had sounded.

Lusting for your sister was nothing new in this family. Just look at his sisters, all the product of his father's "close relationship" with his own sisters. He nearly let out a snort of laughter at the thought about how hilarious, if not blasphemous, for his Dad to bring them to church, and on such a blessed day, especially when over half of his family were the result of something the Church and society in general condemned. Imagine the looks on churchgoers' and the priest's faces if they found out.

His thoughts grew somber. He wouldn't care about what they thought about this, though. He had strong feelings for his sister — and a not-so-tiny, pitiful part of him he hoped against hope that she felt the same — and that was that. He'd have to deal with it, one way or another, and shoulder on like a man. A man he hoped to become for his Lyra one day.

He frowned. Just how hopeless was he?

His eyes drifted upward to the statue of Jesus Christ on the Cross affixed high on the wall behind the priest. Despite the distance separating them, the Lord's eyes peered deeply into Lemy's, filled not with pain and suffering as befitting his crucifixion nor scorn or disapproval, but with love and compassion. Lemy swallowed, and with great effort, wrenched his eyes away and pulled his bandanna down a little. He reached over to grab a prayer book from a pocket slot and opened to a random page, his eyes scanning over the verses yet not comprehending them.

Yeah, he was pretty hopeless.

So preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't see Lyra glance at him, concern in her eyes. Another sister, sporting pigtails, did the same.


End file.
